Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Excerpt #2

Here's another excerpt from a story I am working on....
Hope you enjoy it.

WARNING: This post contains graphic depictions of violence and bodily harm. Those with weak stomachs or who are easily offended may wish to stop now. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Houston, Texas 22 June 2010 0740

The battle is won. 75,000 Pan-Hispanist troops walk gloomily into something they never dreamed of: Captivity. As these dejected invaders shuffle up the reoad, a solitary Marine stands apart. Other Marines wear smiles, as if the war was already won. This lone man, however, still seethes with anger.

LCP Breton Sulvaron lets his mind roam back in time ten years. Back to a horrifying night in Omaha. The night his childhood ended. The night all joy fled the world. He can still hear the screams of his mother and sister as they awere gang raped and sodomized repeatedly. His sister, Jolena, died during the event, but his mother, Mary Lynne, survived long enough to exact a promise of revenge from him before she, too, died.

Lance Corporal Sulvaron also thought about his "Auntie" Frannie, the woman who took him in. A staunch, devout, almost holy black woman who gave him some hope of retreiving some happiness. She had taken good care of him, and he grew strong and smart. Frannie had also worked to assuage the pain of his orphaning. "She almost succeeded," he thought as he watched the endless line of prisoners.

Frannie Jackon was a second mother to him, and he loved her. When he was sixteen she took him to New York to see his grandmother. That was when he met Miselda, the girl of his heart. He fell in love immediately, and for a year he was happy, or so he believed. She showed him the joy of Life, and helped him to remember the good times of his childhood.

Then the renewed happiness was destroyed. On March 27, 2009, the Pan-Hispanist Union invaded. His grandmother, "Auntie" Frannie, and Miselda were in Los Angeles while he was away at college at the University of Nebraska. When L.A. fell, the invaders went on a rampage. They killed Frannie and his grandmother. When Miselda refused to join the invaders, she, too, was killed. They gang raped her and then cut her unborn child out. She bled to death, and the baby was strangled with his own umbilical cord.

Breton Sulvaron left college and joined the United States Marine Corps. His anger was channeled into becoming the best Marine he could be. He became an expert marksman and even got a recommendation for Sniper School. Breton Sulvaron became LCP Sulvaron, and after an accelerated program, earned a sniper badge.

His thought was interrupted by a sudden movement from the line of prisoners. A Pan-Hispanist officer bolted from the stream, heading right for him. Sulvaron saw the glint of steel, indicating a knife. It was a moment he had dreamed of.

Swiftly, he raised his weapon and thrust out at the approaching enemy. Sulvaron caught the man just below the abdomen. Turning the weapon, he swung left and emasculated the officer. The man crumpled in the dirt and whimpered. Pity began to rise up in LCP Sulvaron... until he saw the face.

A series of bitter memories flooded his brain. It all came rushing back to him: the sadistic grin; the evil laugh; the sick joy the man had as he sodomized Sulvaron's 14 year old sister. The Marine felt the urge to shove the now detached member down the bastard's throat.

Just then, the bleeding man looked into his face, and recoiled in terror. "YOU!" he gasped out.

"I'm glad you remember me," Sulvaron snarled. "I've waited years for this!"
"Kill me and be done with it! I am punished."
"Not yet, you ain't! CORPSMAN!"

The medic arrived in time to stop the bleeding. Amazingly, the wounded enemy had not bled as much as it seemed. As the corpsmen carried him away, the officer cried out, "Why didn't you kill me?!"

"Oh, you will die," Sulvaron growled. "You will die in God's own time, not mine. In the meantime, you will suffer, as I have. You will go to Hell rememvering that it was the son of the woman, the scared little brother of the girl, the only surviving member of the family you destroyed. Oh yes, the husband of the Mexican girl you raped, and father of the unborn baby boy you strangled with his own umbilical cord.

"May God have mercy on you and your buddies, for I will have none," Sulvaron coldy intoned. "Take this putrid, cockless, pox-ridden, slimy excuse for a human being away!" he ordered.

After that, no other prisoner even thought about running. Word had spread of the fate of that man, and all the others wanted to keep their cojones. They trudged on, the remains of an army that was, only two weeks ago, poised to take Houston and drive north to Dallas and East to New Orleans.

LCP Sulvaron watched once more the line of vanquished enemy troops. He barely noticed when a much oldre man stepped next to him. In fact, his first notice of the man was when he heard, "Corporal."

"Yes, sir," Sulvaron automatically replied.
"You have new orders," the General said. "You are to report to Fort Devens, Massachusetts."
"An Army base?"
"But, sir, I'm a Marine... why?"
"Hell if I know, Sergeant. All the orders say is that you are to report there by the 30th. That is all."
"Yes, General."

With that, Sgt. Breton Sulvaron walked toward a waiting HMMWV. He had made it halfway to the vehicle when it dawned on him that he had been addressed as Sergeant. He turned back and yelled, "General!"

"Yes, Sergeant," the General answered as he made his way over.
"That's the second time you've called me that," Sulvaron noted.
"Called you what?"
"Sergeant. Sir, I'm a Lance Corporal."
"Not anymore. You've been promoted to Staff Sergeant."
"Well... thank you, General."

He saluted and then got into the HMMWV, and as the driver made his way north, Sulvaron considered his situation. Whatever awaited him in Massachusetts, he knew that his war would be different, henceforth.